Takeout
by rafiela
Summary: "She tries to dissect the situation in her head: Why would Barry Allen bring her dinner?" Another fluffy one because you guys made me happy with all your reviews! You know what to do ;)


**Author's Note: First of all, I'd like to thank everyone for their reviews. Because you guys are amazing, here's another fluffy one just the way we all like it. Again, this isn't beta-ed, all mistakes are mine. Standard disclaimers apply.**

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><p>Everyone knows she stays in the office long after everyone's gone home, running through the data reports of the day and making sure nothing's out of the ordinary.<p>

One night, she suddenly finds a box of takeout being laid down beside her keyboard and a flushed Barry Allen trying to respond to her questioning look.

"I was… thinking… I was worried. You know?"

She tilts her head to one side. _He's worried? About me? _

"I was worried you'd miss dinner."

He finishes, scratching the back of his head and fixing his sight on the floor. _Subtle, Barry Allen. Way to go!_

The silence that follows is the exact definition of awkward - Caitlin gawking at his blatant display of affection (what now?), and Barry trying to cover up his slip.

It's the kind of silence that you feel under your ribs, expanding. It's the kind of silence that means _something._

She tries to dissect the situation in her head: _Why would Barry Allen bring her dinner?_

The answers her brain offers are ones she'd rather not entertain. When she's regained enough brain function to verbalize her thoughts, she's left with a faint _take care_ and a hint of his smell mixing with the papers in midair_._

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><p>The next time it happens, his excuse is that <em>it's a thank you for earlier. <em>

She watches him squirm in the chair beside her, his mouth opening and shutting like that yellow thing from that video game from the 90's.

It makes her laugh, the absurdity of it all, because a few days after he first walked in, she still hasn't figured out what all this means, if any.

He's decided he's just going to be honest about it all from now on. After all, he's sure his excuses sound foolish, especially to someone who has an M.D and a Ph.D. written beside her name.

"Umm, so, I'm likely going to be bringing you dinner tomorrow night as well, and I'm running out of excuses," he laughs that nervous laugh of his, the corners of his eyes creasing.

"And ideas. So umm, do you want anything in particular?"

"For tomorrow?", he clarifies.

He watches her expression, trying to read her little motions, hoping he'd have something to file away under Things Caitlin Snow Does.

But all she can get herself to do is smile because _he's so adorable when he's nervous_.

Belatedly, she chastises herself for ever using the word adorable. _Adorable? Really, Caitlin? You're not eight anymore!_

It's his voice that breaks her mental discussion.

"Caitlin?"

She has to shake her head to clear her thoughts as she mumbles a quiet apology_. _It takes her a while to realise he was waiting for her to answer.

"Dumplings. Ummm, they're my favorite." she replies, surprised at her own struggle at articulation.

She looks up, hoping to gauge his reaction at this little revelation. She watches the smile grow from his eyes, slowly reaching his cheeks and then his lips. It's that same smile she's seen so many times, the one that forms when he's excited about something.

He starts to leave, rising from the seat beside her. She's facing him now, her knees almost brushing his.

"Thanks for this," she says, tipping her head towards the doggy bag on the table.

Before his form completely disappears from view, she hears herself say, "Maybe tomorrow you can join me?"

She almost regrets her words, not even sure why she said them, but when she sees the little spring in his step, the way he seems to be vibrating with even more energy than usual, she thinks maybe this could be _something_. Something worth her while.

Later that night, in bed, she finds herself thinking about what to wear, what shade of blush to use. She falls asleep trying to convince herself that it's not a date. Because it's not, right? _Right?_

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><p>Eventually, it becomes their thing. And after a few more weeks, he doesn't even have to pretend to leave before dinner.<p>

"Where do you even go?", she says, genuinely wanting to know what he does with his time.

"I groom myself to be worthy of your presence," he says, not even joking.

She shakes her head at his response.

"Also, I roam the streets trying to shake off the energy, at the same time hoping to find a clue about your dinner preferences."

It's refreshing how, after having to lock away his feelings all his life, he now has someone he can be real with. He doesn't feel the need to filter his thoughts anymore, afraid his feelings might show. With Caitlin, he's comfortable enough to let it.

"You could've just asked." she answers with a laugh, laying out their impressive collection of takeout menus.

Before long, they're clearing the table, throwing out the boxes of chinese takeout.

She realises he's stalling when he deliberately walks slowly, his eyes scanning the office for God knows what. Normally, when she starts to pack up her things, Barry would give her some excuse about wanting to read up on her earlier stuff. Tonight, he watches him anxiously stuff his own bag.

When she lifts her bag to her shoulder, he shifts his gaze to meet hers, strapping his messenger bag across chest.

"I'll, umm, walk you home?"

They've been skirting around each other long enough for her to know his nervous tells. So when he sees his hand lift to scratch the back of his head, she takes a bold step forward and pulls on his arm, linking them with hers as they make their way downstairs and out of the building.

It's late enough into the night so that it's chilly and he wastes no time in draping his jacket over her shoulders.

She takes his hand in hers as thanks.

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><p>When they reach her building some ways away from the lab, it's a few minutes past nine, They're the only ones in the street save for a driver in a crisp black suit, waiting by a shiny limo a few feet away.<p>

He clears his throat as they stand in a comfortable silence, hands linked and breaths mingling in the small space between them.

She shrugs his jacket off and wraps her arms around his shoulders to put it on his. She struggles with the height difference and he muffles a laugh when she stands on the tips of her toes, his hands landing on her waist for support.

They stay there til she says she has to go as she plants a kiss on his cheek.

Just as she's about to walk away, the glass doors already inviting her in, he catches her wrist.

She turns around to face him, smiling when he goes back to opening his mouth and closing it again.

"Barry, words, use your words."

"I was testing my telepathic powers," he says finally, eliciting a hearty laugh from her.

"Maybe you wanna have dinner sometime? Outside of the office? You know? Like normal people?," he says with a nervous laugh.

"You mean like on a date?," she offers, watching his expression form on his face - shock mixed with unease, his eyes once again trained on their feet.

She closes the gap between them, holding his chin between the tip of her thumb and her curved forefinger so she can look into his eyes.

"Hey," she says quietly, willing him to meet her gaze. "It's a date."

She smiles up at him, the skin between her eyebrows crinkling, lips wide apart showing all her teeth, like a child. He bows his head forward and plants a bold kiss onto the tip of her nose.

Two kisses in one night. _Ha!. That's The Flash for you, ladies and gentlemen._

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><p><strong>AN: I love hearing from all of you so go ahead and leave me that review! I seriously need them! Thanks for reading! X<strong>


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